Chapter 47 47

Chapter 47 47
Vivian's POV

The door was open and between Sofia’s silence and the screen, we listened to the press conference on my room’s television. Dominic appeared every inch the formidable business man – self-assured, restrained and perfectly composed. He fielded questions with practiced ease, never hesitating, never appearing weak. Until that last question about me.

I witnessed the precise instant his mask came off. For one second, for just long enough for the cameras to catch it. His jaw clenched, his eyes frosted and something flashed across his face that could have been fear. Then it’d disappeared, buried under his regular careful expression.

“They’re pulling you into this now,” Sofia murmured. “Involving you in investigation.

"Why? I didn’t do anything wrong—” The protest even sounded feeble to my own ears.

"You're his wife. That makes you jib in their eyes, no matter that you knew or not.” Sofia turned off the television. "Spousal involvement in criminal enterprises. It's a common prosecution tactic."

My hands started shaking. I locked them shut to keep it hidden but the shaking wouldn’t stop. I personally could go to jail. For crimes I didn't commit. For a life I’d been given against my will. The irony was so huge I could taste it.

"What do I do? How do I protect myself?"

"You stay completely quiet. Don’t speak to anyone — not police, reporters, neighbors or whoever may be recording or documenting. Nothing you say will help you, but everything can hurt you.”

They can’t make me talk —”

“Can they in fact? Unless you invoke spousal privilege." Sofia's expression was carefully neutral. “You cannot be made to testify against your husband.”

“But that would work only if the marriage was genuine. Legal. Legitimate. Which, technically it was — we had a ceremony and witnesses and legal documents. But it was based on a lie. If somebody found out I wasn’t Veronica Carter or that I was the wrong sister, maybe the marriage could be annulled. And then I would have no protection at all. No privilege. Just culpability.”

The doorbell rang. Aggressive and demanding in rapid fire several times. Sofia walked over the window and peered down at the driveway. Her face went pale.

"Police. Multiple cars. At least six officers." She faced me, with immediate urgency in her voice. "They have a warrant. They’ll go through the house. And they’ll probably want to talk to you.”

Hundreds of police officers stormed the mansion like an invading army. They wore latex gloves and empty boxes, methodically sifting through rooms. Pulling open drawers, taking artwork off the walls, looking through closets and cabinets. Hungry for evidence, for anything that could be used to construct their case.

I was ushered into the living room, where I took a seat and two more officers came to join us – stern female officer stood eagerly by the door like an unhappy chaperone. My guard, I realized. It was as if they were treating me like a suspect, rather than a witness.

“Mrs. DeLaurentis, I will need to ask you some questions about your husband’s business.” The officer's manner was businesslike neutral, but her eyes were acute, appraising.

"I want my lawyer." The words sounded more assertive than I felt.

"You're not under arrest. This is just preliminary questioning."

I would like my lawyer here before I answer any questions.”

The officer’s lips tightened to a hard line. "Fine. But then you’ll have to come down here for official questioning. We can arrange transportation."

"Am I being arrested?"

"Not at this time. "I can assure you that we will, if that is your preference.” It was an ominous threat, vaguely phrased and clearly menacing.

My mind raced. I didn't have a lawyer. Didn't know who to call. Dominic had lawyers, but were they my own lawyers? Could I use them? Did I need separate representation?

Xavier was in the door like he had been called by my panic. "Mrs. DeLaurentis has nothing to say without representation."

"And you are?" The officer's tone was dismissive.

"Her attorney. As of right now." As if he did such things every day, he passed her a business card. “All questions, all requests, all communication comes through me. Is that clear?"

The officer appeared irritated but stood down. They had their warrant to search, but they couldn’t make me talk without charges. Not yet, anyway.

The search continued for hours. They took everything — computers, file boxes, external hard drives, even personal items that appeared to have no possible evidentiary value. Photographs. Letters. My own laptop, one I had barely used. They took pictures of rooms, measured spaces, documented everything with a methodical precision.

I sat in the living room, as my home was torn apart piece by piece. Sofia served me tea I never drank. Xavier placed calls in the hallway, his voice low and urgent.

Finally, after what seemed like days but was likely only four hours, they started to trickle out. With boxes of evidence, hard drives, documents. Carrying off fragments of Dominic’s empire with them.

Xavier inspected the mess after the final officer took off. Papers strewn around, drawers left open, cushions pulled from seats and not put back. "They took everything. Financial papers, computers, even personal letters and family photographs.”

"Will they find anything incriminating?" My voice sounded small.

Xavier's expression was grim. “They’re going to find what they want to find. You can spin evidence in many ways depending on the story you tell about it. If you work it in the right way, a perfectly fine business deal can appear to be money laundering.”

His phone buzzed. He looked, and his face went so white that there was not a particle of color left in it.

"What? What is it?"

"They arrested Dominic. At the press conference venue. He is being processed down at the downtown d.c. right now.”

The broken mansion as my only company when Xavier disappeared to work on Dominic’s imprisonment. Guards were stationed outside still — members of Dominic’s private security detail, not the police — but inside it was just me and Sofia tip-toeing our way into empty rooms to start the immense rebuilding process.

"What happens now?" I asked, picking up some of the papers that'd fallen out.

"Now we wait. The Don is going to make bait, more likely than not. And if he does. He’s got the money and the contacts. But the wheels of justice have begun to turn. There's no stopping it now."

“How long does something like this take? The trial, I mean?"

"Months at minimum. More likely a year or longer. Those are complicated cases.” Sofia's hands did not shake as she sorted papers. “Years of investigation, testimony, evidence presentation.
Years. Been living under that shadow for years. Years of being spied upon and investigated. Years of watching Dominic struggle for his freedom and life, perhaps.”

I thought about Celeste's offer. The $5 million Swiss bank account. The escape route she'd provided. I would leave right now, while Dominic was held up and confusion was gripping his entire organization. Just disappear. Begin anew, with a fresh start, in a safe place. Away from investigations and trials. Away from danger and violence. Away from him.

But I couldn't. It was a conviction which seized me as an undeniable truth. I wouldn’t leave, even though any sane person would. Because somewhere along the way, without me even realizing when it had happened, I’d stopped being his prisoner and become his partner. I had stopped surviving this life and begun to choose it.

My phone rang. Unknown number. I almost didn’t pick up, but some force moved me to the phone.

"Hello?"

It was Veronica, sounding like herself and as welcome as a razor in an apple. "Hey, little sis. Heard the news about your husband. Seems he’s gotten himself into a real quagmire. Perhaps now you shall be quit of these people—no need to go down with him.”